


The Art of Sex

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4044508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that he was neither a teenager nor a virgin anymore, Stiles’s view had changed. Now, years later, he had learnt to appreciate the art of sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Sex

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: NC - 17  
> Summary: Now that he was neither a teenager nor a virgin anymore, Stiles’s view had changed. Now, years later, he had learnt to appreciate the art of sex.  
> Warnings: sexual content  
> Word Count: 932  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.  
> Author's note: Another lost fic... *rolls eyes at self* I promise I'm not gonna delete stuff again.

When he had been a teenager, sex had been the means to reach that big, glory goal: the loss of his virginity. Seeing how everyone around him, even formerly fellow dork Scott, had finally found a girl who’d willingly hop into bed with them, Stiles had slowly but steadily gotten desperate. A guy had needs after all. Plus, at least back then, announcing that one had no idea what everyone else was talking about...yeah, kinda embarrassing.

Now that he was neither a teenager nor a virgin anymore, Stiles’s view had changed. In a couple of years, he would probably go and tell kids to wait and not let society force them into getting fucked, just so they fitted in with the others. He would tell them that there was so much more about sex than getting off within a matter of seconds and finally being allowed to join the not-so-secret club of the experienced.

Now, years later, he had learnt to appreciate the art of sex. He had found himself that one lover who’d push all the right buttons. The one that would just look at him and cause that delicious heat deep within the pit of his stomach. The one whom he couldn’t get enough of. Not that he’d ever try.

Stiles doubted he would ever forget the first night he had shared with Derek. An unlikely pair they had been. At least so it had seemed, considering how the others had reacted when they had found out another few months later. At that point, though, Stiles couldn’t have cared less. Because if a pair had ever been matched by destiny itself, it was the two of them.

Oh yeah.

Kissing had never tasted so sweet, like forbidden fruits finally within reach. Yet Stiles resisted the urge because even more tempting than hungry kisses was the sight before him as he slid into his lover as deep as he could go. Sparks of raw lust shot up his spine and gathered in the depth of his gut. He was so perfectly tight and hot around his throbbing cock and staying still was almost too much of a challenge for him.

Biting his bottom lip so hard he could taste hints of blood, Stiles drank in his lover’s reaction to being filled, to being entirely at his partner’s mercy at this very moment. It wasn’t the fact that Derek preferred to be fucked rather than do the work himself that surprised Stiles, but the trust the werewolf offered with lying beneath him, on his back, so vulnerably exposed.

Every single muscle in the man’s body seemed to tense as Derek arched off the bed like a bow, eyes squeezed shut in utter pleasure. Nails were at the edge of turning into claws as they dug into Stiles’s hips, the sweetness of the created pain adding to his arousal.

“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” he couldn’t help but whisper, carefully withdrawing and sinking back in to test if his lover was ready.

He was. Of course he was.

Set on fire by the sensation of being joined in the most intimate way, Stiles kept moving, in a slow but steady rhythm pulling out and thrusting back in. He knew he wouldn’t last long, had been craving this moment all day long, but at this point, his own release was the furthest from his mind.

It was another thing that had changed. Years ago, as a teenager, his own satisfaction had been highest priority to Stiles. Now that he knew what it was like to cause such pleasure for another person, he had grown addicted to give. In awe, he watched as Derek responded to every single movement. Sweet sighs and throaty moans battled heat and friction for dominance in pushing him further and further to the edge.

He almost lost it as his lover’s strong legs wrapped around his waist, silently urging him to go faster. “Stiles…” Derek whispered, his voice trailing off into a long, deep growl, his warm eyes at the edge of flashing into their glowing wolf color.

This was it. The combination of all the little details. Sighs, moans, broken pleas for more. Pupils blown with lust. Lips swollen from kisses and desperate bites. Skin flushed, muscles tense. 

Stiles knew all the little tales, knew how to use them to full advantage. Shifting a little, he adjusted the angle of his thrust. The result was spectacular, as always. In amazement, he watched how his partner arched off the bed, hands clawing at the sheets, claws digging in deep as he came without the need of either of them touching his painfully hard erection.

It wasn’t so much the physical sensation of muscles contracting around his own cock and his lover’s come painting both of their chests but the vision before him that set the tension in Stiles’s abdomen free. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he cried out as his body shook and shivered through his orgasm. He barely noticed how two strong, familiar arms wrapped around him, flipped them over so he wouldn’t fall over or, in the worst and most embarrassing case, off the bed.

By the time Stiles’s mind had stopped spinning, he found himself spooning Derek, his lover’s back against his chest. A sleepy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Either he was the big spoon or neither of them. Another little gesture that said so much more about trust than long speeches could. Utterly satisfied, he snuggled closer, letting the sweet exhaustion that came with experiencing the art of sex lure him to sleep.


End file.
